Becoming of Age Again
by Sheiado
Summary: A woman from the year 2010 wakes up into the world of king Arthur… and discovers that she isn’t 25 anymore. She’s fifteen years younger and is surrounded by boys who are training to be knights. This is Claire’s story.
1. Prologue

**Becoming Of Age... Again**

**By:** Sheiado

**Author's Note**: Okay, this story is an idea that just WOULDN'T get out of my head while I was at work (what can I say, it was a slow day today and I decided to pick up a notebook lol). Anyway, what do you guys think? … if I get far enough with this, I'm thinking of making it either a Tristan/OC or a Lancelot/OC. As of now, I'm not too sure yet. I'll have to see how this turns out lol.

**Summary**: A woman from the year 2010 wakes up into the world of king Arthur… and discovers that she isn't 25 anymore. She's fifteen years younger and is surrounded by boys who are training to be knights. This is Claire's story.

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****Prologue**

My eyes felt too heavy to open and, despite waking into consciousness, the dense fog of sleep still persisted to linger heavily against the rational part of my mind, almost as if refusing to release me from its clutches.

I felt adrift with myself and my surroundings. Normally, the helplessness of my present circumstance would have left me feeling nothing but raw panic. But, I felt a varying sensation of calmness running through me and the void of darkness that hovered around my mind seemed to coax me into a strange state of peace.

Despite the thick barrier between wakefulness and unconsciousness, I found myself questioning what was happening. _Where was I? Why couldn't I open my eyes? Was I dead…?_

The surrounding darkness soon began to entice me further and its pull strengthened with every thought in my head that began to waver. I was beginning to feel depleted with every effort I made to fight and silently rage against it.

I knew my act defiance would serve no purpose other than to be used against me.

And used against me, it was.

'_So tired…'_

A soft, lilting voice penetrated through the haze that burdened me, a woman's voice that was laced with the unmistakable affection of concern. "How does the child fair, Erond? Will she live?"

"Aye, she will live," a soft-spoken male voice answered. "Her fever has broke but for the next few days she will need to be abed in order to heal and gather her strength."

There was a short moment of silence and the unmistakable crackle from a fire. "What kind of monster would treat a child so young thusly?"

The question came out as a barely discernible whisper.

"I know not. She seems to be a very brave child."

"Yes," the woman agreed. "The markings on her, they do not come from this land for I have not seen their like here before. What people do you think she hails from?"

"None of this land nor those of Rome or Sarmatia."

"… a Saxon child?"

"No. Wherever she hails from, I don't believe it is anywhere close to this region. Her attire when we came upon her was made of strange fabric far too large for her body."

"I see. When she awakens, what shall we ask her?"

"Nothing. At present, she needs rest and comfort. A frightened child isn't one to question after such an ordeal as hers." Then, almost as an afterthought, he added, "However, if you wish for at least _some_ answers, perhaps your son shall be of good use to you in getting her comfortable enough to speak."

"I agree with that idea. I will speak to him about it after the midday meal."

"Good," the man replied. "In the meantime, I must speak with my apprentice knight concerning her condition. The type of injuries I have found on this child are certainly new ones that I have never encountered before. Dagonet will be able to use this information if any more wounds such as the ones she possesses comes forth in future time."

"Of course," the woman conceded. "I must take my leave as well yet, I must confess, I do not wish to leave her alone for fear she will awaken."

"Worry not, Lady Igraine," the man assured in a quiet voice. "The herbs I have just given her are strong ones. Her body will not be able to challenge their potency, especially in one so young. I will administer them to her again on the morrow."

"Thank you, Sir."

A shuffle of feet resounded against the floor, followed by the loud moan of a door cricking open.

A swishing of skirts followed only seconds later, along with the woman's soft and alluring voice, "Sleep, little one and fear not."

'_Sleep…'_

The deep sense of peace took hold of me again and this time, I didn't fight it. Knowing that I was safe with this woman and with this man watching over me, I let sweet oblivion come to claim me. And then, I knew no more.


	2. Chapter One

**Becoming of Age… Again**

**By:** Sheiado

**Summary**: A woman from the year 2010 wakes up into the world of king Arthur… and discovers that she isn't 25 anymore. She's fifteen years younger and is surrounded by boys who are training to be knights. This is Claire's story.

**Author's Note**: Thank you to Anime Princess for reviewing! It's a hard choice (hmmm…) . And, yes, you guessed it! I have great plans for Arthur and Claire (they are kind of getting into a brother/sister sort of bonding…). Anyway, tell me what you guys think! And, I plan on getting some Dagonet interaction into the next chappy as well. Please review!

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**Chapter One**

I opened my eyes, only to regret it seconds later as a sharp glow of light knifed through them. Despite the pain, which felt as if it seared through every vein, muscle, and limb of my body, I tried to sit up while blinking furiously in order to gain my bearings.

I never liked to be unaware of my surroundings and vulnerability certainly wasn't one of my strong suits.

I felt a gentle but hesitant hand guide me back down. "You shouldn't move overly much," a small voice suggested. "You might reopen your stitches."

I winced again as a sharp pain unexpectedly pierced my side. Perhaps, for once, I would listen to reason.

After being resettled, I looked up to see a pair of compassionate green eyes regarding me with careful observation. A small boy no older than 11 or 12 years stood at my bedside. "Who are you?" I found myself asking. The question came out before I could even stop myself, a well-renown habit of mine that I had developed since childhood growing up in foster homes.

"Artorius," the boy answered, "But you may call me Arthur if you like. May I ask of your name?"

I'll admit, I had to refrain from my mouth flying open in shock by the mere formality and mannerisms that he was using in order to address me. No kid _that_ age talks like that anymore. Hell, not even fully grown adults talk like that either…

"My name is Claire," I answered.

He bowed his head politely and smiled. "It is nice to meet you, Claire."

I smiled back, albeit not with as much enthusiasm. "I wish I could say the same, under the circumstances," I replied ruefully. As I took more notice to his appearance, I found myself frowning.

"Are you well…? Would you like to me to fetch our healer, Erond, to tend to you?"

At first, I didn't answer. Instead, I shifted to gaze about the room. "This place doesn't look like a hospital."

"Hospital…?" He asked, confused. "Tis the healer's wing."

"The healer's wing?" I asked, slightly dumbfounded.

"Yes," Arthur answered, "My mother and Erond have been tending to you for the past three days. They found you near the outskirts of the fort."

"Fort…?"

The boy nodded, a gesture that seemed to give off the idea of confirmation. "Yes. Erond said that this might be expected with your condition. Do you not remember anything?"

I wanted to say yes but pure instinct alone told me to do otherwise.

Images, like a waterfall of horrors, flashed in my mind.

_So much blood…_

I couldn't stop my throat from constricting or the tears that welled up in my eyes as I felt the familiar stab of loss that always followed in the realization that death, once again, had staked its claim in the lives of those who surrounded me.

I felt a hand touch mine.

"You do not have to speak of it if you do not wish it," Arthur whispered, his voice kind.

I nodded, ignoring the silent tears that had begun to spill down my cheeks.

"Thanks," I replied, my voice thick.

"Your accent. 'Tis a strange one. Where do you hail from, Claire?" He asked curiously.

I smiled, knowing that he was purposely changing the subject in order to lighten the mood. His question, however, made_ me _gaze at him as if _he _was the strange one. "Your kidding me, right? This is some kind of strange joke your pulling on me?"

"Joke? I meant no insult, Claire. What land?"

"Philadelphia," I answered.

"I've never heard of such a place. How is it like?"

This had to be a dream. This place, this boy, all of it had to do with me having an overly-active imagination from all the drugs the hospital had more than likely pumped into my system.

"Some parts are good," I answered, "and others… well, they're not so good."

I noticed a brief look of desolation flicker across his face.

I took pity on him, knowing that he was at a loss as to what kind of subject point to bring up. He was trying so hard to be friendly and not slip up by making me upset again.

Even for him being a well-manifested illusion, I felt bad for him.

This time, I decided to take charge in broaching a subject. "If Erond and your mother take care of me," I asked curiously, "why are you here?"

Arthur shrugged, a sheepish smile crossing his adorable features just as a small, tinted shade of pink formed along his cheeks.

He was definitely a cute kid.

"Mother wanted me to speak with you," he admitted. "She thought you would be more comfortable conversing with me… you are comfortable speaking with me, aren't you?"

I couldn't help but smile at his timidness. Obviously the poor kid didn't speak to women or girls that often.

"Of course," I answered without hesitation.

Arthur beamed at me and then proceeded, albeit with some effort, to place a chair next to my bedside.

"Your mother must be a very nice lady for taking care of a stranger like me. If I don't see her anytime soon, will you thank her for me?"

"Of course," he replied, his grin reaching from ear to ear.

I didn't have the heart to tell him that, despite the pain I was still feeling and beginning to mask with more difficulty as the minutes wore on, that he was nothing more than a dream… as was his mother. I wouldn't be meeting her at all.

"You don't have to stay here long if you don't want to," I suddenly told him, knowing that a boy his age sitting here next to me for so long, out of a duty ordered by his mother, was probably beginning to get bored out of his mind. "I know you probably have better things to do."

A wistful smile briefly flitted across his features. "I would like to say so since you are in so much pain but, it wouldn't be truth."

I couldn't lie, the kid was astute as hell… however, I've had worse amounts of pain compared to this. Ignoring it was in my nature, especially when you've been through the amount of gun shot wounds, stab wounds, and car accidents that I've been through. It was all apart of the violent city life I grew up in and the casualties that were also apart of my job description. Here, I felt nothing of that sort mattered anymore. But, then again, this was nothing more than a dream, after all…

I couldn't hold my curiosity at bay. "Why is that?"

"I'm training to be a commander, like my father before me," he answered, his expression a hopeless one. "My training is separate from the Sarmatian boys who are training to be my knights. I learn from Catalonias while they are learning from Erond and Belvidere. They all hate me. They think I'm weak."

My lips thinned as an eyebrow shot up. "How do you know that?"

"I only met them through a few chance meetings," he answered, his voice somber. "All they do is glare at me and call me names behind my back."

Playground issues, I decided. I forgot just how cruel some kids could be to the peers around them but, before I could voice such thoughts to him, Arthur continued on his story.

"I know they are duty bound to Rome and I can't blame them for feeling the way that they do. If I were to be taken to a foreign land to foster and train for knighthood for 15 years for their army, I imagine I would feel the exact same way."

I decided to interrupt. "And how do you think you would feel about it? What emotions?" I asked wisely.

Arthur momentarily gazed down at his hands. "I would feel anger, confusion…and I imagine also a great sense of loss."

I nodded. "And they are what they are," I spoke in a quiet but firm voice, "they are _boys_, obviously taken from their homeland and brought into a new one that they don't understand quite yet. They don't know _'how' _to channel their anger so instead of the _'how'_, they put it into the _'where'_. Because of your age, they feel the need to direct that anger at _you _because they are also aware of what position it is that you are to be given in the future… and also because you are vulnerable. You have yet to become a man and establish not only your position, but also your feelings and thoughts about the world around you."

Arthur nodded, his eyes widening in awe at my words. "You are very wise, Claire. I wish I could be able to grasp things as you do."

"Don't worry," I replied with a wink, "you'll catch up and be just as wise as me, O'-fearless-leader."

"What is your council on the matter? How should I make use of this new understanding you have given me?" he questioned, his expression pensive.

"Their anger is misplaced so let this insults go… for now. But, don't let them walk all over you. If it goes too far, call them out and stand up for yourself… also, show them respect so that they will show the same when the time comes. Where I come from, we usually just fight each other first and then shake hands later."

Arthur nodded his head, his lips pursing tighter as he contemplated my words in silence.

I guess we were both so caught up in the discussion that we had scarcely heard anyone enter.

A throat was cleared and both of our heads snapped to the door to see an elderly man and a young teenage boy of about 15 standing there observing us.

"Oh, there's people," I noted aloud. "… uh, hi!"

The elderly man's lips quirked at my choice of greeting while the young boy at his side raised a surprised eyebrow.

Judging by their attire, they were also apart of this "time period".

_God, when am I going to wake up already…?_

These drugs must either be knock-offs or something new…

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Yep, She has yet to realize that this ISN'T a dream... and that she's in a ten-year-old's body. Please Review!


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